sangsaracycling

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The anatomy of my bookshelf! Recently I sold and donated more than half of my collection, but these are books I couldn’t part with yet ❤️

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my sister offhandedly brought up the time “mom broke dads glasses” as though this was a funny little anecdote and now doesn’t understand why the mood deeply soured and also she’s in deep shit with mother. in her defence she only remembers the next day at the optometrist and my dad telling the man that “my wife accidentally leaned against my work bag on the dining chair” . me i don’t remember that at all but i do remember the fight the night before, during which my mother yanked the glasses off his face to break them and also smashed his work laptop on the ground. funny how memories work

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god i’m now like . envious of my sister for her relationship. i know she has her complaints but god i wish i had someone rn in the way she has her fuckass bf yk?

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In a language that contains words like devotion, passion, enthusiasm, love, fascination, obsession, etc., I can’t help but regret this tendency to cram all those meanings into "hyperfixation," a word which manages to pathologize and medicalize the act of having interests.

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oh no i just want to play my stupid games no stupid prizes for me thanks

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I guess a more general version of the point is that in the last 50-ish years, everyday language has borrowed more and more of both the terminology and structural features of technical language. This happens for a lot of reasons. But I think it's mostly not a good thing. For one, being abstract and technical is not actually very useful in the messy real world, where concepts are fuzzy and vague and most things of importance are not quantifiable. For another, if natural language borrows too much of the authority of science and the law, it might find that there's not enough left afterwards for science and the law to do what we need them to do.

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ma'am, I'm going to place you on a brief hold while I look for a reaction image

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fuck i just saw that there are some google street view photo spheres in the gaza strip and now im fucked up

cause the satellite view is recent and its a nightmare just shattered gray expanses of rubble and all these deep ruts through the dirt everywhere that looks like some kind of machinery.

but the photo spheres are from before the buildings were destroyed so there are these cute little courtyard gardens with olive trees and pots with herbs painted in colors and nice little apartment buildings with laundry out to dry on the balconies. and when you zoom out to satellite its just completely obliterated wasteland of rubble and debris

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come on man

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cappadocia, turkey

caspar tromp

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nostalgia is a liar. nothing was ever as good as you remember it to be. there’s a reason you don’t talk to that person anymore, there’s a reason you’re not part of each other’s lives. don’t trust nostalgia. grieve. reflect. move on.

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"i do not dream of labour" is one of the worst pseudo-marxist taglines that western leftists have co-opted because when you ask them what they do dream of, they say traveling, studying, and creating art. broski, who's flying the plane to take you to prague? who's the security at the library with the texts you're studying? who are the clerks in the museum showcasing your art? like bro, you do dream of labour. you just dream of someone else doing it so you don't have to! you merely want to outsource the labour and make it invisible.

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This morning, the sun endures past dawn. I realise that it is August: the summer’s last stand.

Sara Baume, A Line Made By Walking

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gonna start referring to my tumblr mutuals as my contemporaries

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up at 3am googling how do i break out of a repetitive cycle that both comforts and harms me

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Your mom walk so loud I bet she went to elephant school